


The Oikawa Ex-Girlfriend Club

by velveticaneue



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bechdel Test Fail, F/M, Gen, M/M, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Multi, Oikawa Tooru's Birthday, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Post-Break Up, Swearing, Tropes, You Should Have Come to Shiratorizawa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29552055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velveticaneue/pseuds/velveticaneue
Summary: What's a group that's probably as powerful as the high school's student council? A group of ex-girlfriends who dated the same jerk. And you are the newest member.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru/Original Female Character(s), Oikawa Tooru/Reader





	The Oikawa Ex-Girlfriend Club

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry if this idea has been done, i did a quick search on ao3 and didn't see anything with this idea. i just love romance tropes and teasing oikawa so much! please let me know if there's an existing fic like this so i can take this down!! thank you for your understanding!!

According to a note slipped into your shoe locker, you were instructed to go to **etoffe** , a cute little bakery, near the Sendai City gymnasium. The instructions were clear: come to the bakery at 10am, wear a headband, and come alone. Since you had just broken up with your boyfriend, you figured, “Why not? This might as well happen, too.” Maybe it was a secret admirer. You made an uncomfortable face as you changed your shoes out. Who the hell was trying to confess to a newly single second year? You hoped no one ever. You had enough of that shit. The wound in your heart from this failed relationship was still very much fresh, and you hoped this was just… literally anything else. A parking ticket for a car you did not drive nor knew how to drive. Potential kidnapping was on the table. An invite to a cult. Anything to get your pretty little mind off of Oikawa Tooru. 

You decided on a white short bubble sleeve shirt and a midi length blue chambray skirt with dark brown buttons down the front. You coupled your crew socks with the strawberries on them with a pair of tan loafers and grabbed your comfiest, threadbare cardigan before heading to the train station. You stood up near the door, leaning your back against the barrier between you and the row of seats. You held your small dark brown backpack to your chest as you nervously shifted your weight from foot to foot. You chewed on your lower lip, tasting the unfortunate flavor your lip gloss lacked. Was ‘sparkly’ a flavor? Your concerns quickly shifted to what a safe amount of glitter was appropriate for human digestion. Clearly, the answer was zero on any given day, but what were the _special circumstances_? 

You exhaled and pulled your pocket mirror out of your backpack staring at the obvious smudge. Fuck it. Whatever. You fished around your bag and took out a pretty coral lip tint. Again, fuck it. Whatever. You didn’t even bring the same shade of gloss with you. 

Oh, _shit_ , the goddamn headband. 

You dropped the tube of lip product back into your bag and looked around frantically. Your camel brown cardigan hung perilously close to the train floor from the crook of your elbow. You found a dark gray satin scarf with light pink flowers you fashioned as an ascot _last_ year. This was a mess. You were a mess. What were you even _doing_? Was _this_ your best self? Waking up early to do your make up? Curl your hair? All to show up to a bakery near the very gym where you dumped your ex-boyfriend barely a month ago? Were _you_ proud of yourself?

You shoved your cardigan into your backpack and fashioned a semi-cute, semi-acceptable headband… scarf. You turned around and looked at yourself in the reflection of the door’s window and tightened it a little more around your head, letting your hand lead the ends of the scarf to fall nicely among the curls. Someone cleared their throat behind you, and you looked briefly. 

“Iwaizumi-kun,” you said with a polite bow of your head. He greeted you in return and put his earbud back in, glancing back down at his phone. A shiver ran down your spine. Was he texting Oikawa? Who cares? You shook your head and retrieved your cardigan, slipping it on carefully before putting your backpack on. The train stopped, and you stepped off as the doors opened. You noticed that Iwaizumi didn’t get leave the train with you. You shrugged and made your way past the gymnasium and towards the cafe.

###### etoffe

“Order, order~” A _very_ pretty brunette tapped her spoon against her plate. The chattering got quieter but didn’t stop. Her full lips turned into a full pout. “Heyyyy~~!” She whined, blowing her hair out of her face as she shrugged her shoulders. “Can the meeting come to order?” 

“Yah!” A girl you recognized as a member of the girls’ tennis team (Suzuki-senpai?) rapped her knuckles against the wooden table. You slowly bit into your fruit sandwich, trying to be as delicate as possible with the whipped cream. You were _not_ going to have cream all over your fucking face at this little soiree. “Fujihara-chan is trying to start the meeting.” The rest of the girls quieted down as the beautiful brunette smiled charmingly at you. 

“I’m Fujihara Ayane,” she greeted. You nodded your head respectfully at her, and you replied with your name. “Oh! I know who you are.” She said, and then she blushed suddenly. “I mean, I’m not a stalker or anything.” You definitely thought she was a stalker now. “I just mean… well…” She was blushing more and she was getting so flustered and—wow, could anyone else look so graceful and beautiful while embarrassed?—you found yourself apologizing for her. 

“It’s okay,” you started. “Um… are you the one who told me to come here?” Your mouth contorted into a forced smile. 

“Oh!” Ayane nodded, and her long, dark brown ponytail seemed to bounce perfectly with every movement. She turned around and looked through her purse briefly— _of course_ it was neatly organized and you were quickly reminded of the lip tint you abandoned for your makeshift headband—and laid a binder on the table right next to her white and pink glazed donut and iced coffee. Using a pen from the a zipper pouch inside of the binder he flipped the notebook open precisely to a page and said your name, age, year and class, and then dropped the bomb with: “Broke up _with_ Oikawa, June 2012.” She emphasized the word ‘with’ with such conviction, you felt almost prideful even though the situation was kind of pathetic in retrospect. You shook your head, feeling yourself bristle up at the thought of it. You looked and saw the silver glint of her jeweled headband against the light, and you took another quick bite. “Good for you.” Ayane complimented, and her voice was sweet and sincere and, you know what, it did make feel good. It _was_ good for you. Who else was going around and dumping Oikawa Tooru? “I certainly couldn’t do it.” And there was a murmur of agreement around the table. 

“Um… umm…” You started quietly. You raised your hand like you were in class, and you immediately put your hand back down and panicked. “What is this?” You stared at them in confusion. The detail on you. The weird fucking note. This super pretty girl that was clearly the leader. “Are you guys here to get dirt on Oikawa-san?” You swallowed hard. “Are you his fan club members?” 

Ayane blinked once, then twice. She tilted her head before laughing prettily. Incredible. You didn’t even realize that there was such a thing as a pretty laugh. Fujihara Ayane looked exactly like the kind of girl you found in manga—she had the appearance of the beautiful, somehow understated and underrated, heroine. If she was here to berate you about how you kissed Oikawa approximately six weeks ago and smelled his hair and then threatened you, then… well, so fucking be it. “His fan club?” She laughed again, and you laughed nervously because, uh, nobody else was laughing. They busied themselves with their food. This was it, right? You were about to get snatched and tortured for information on Oikawa of all fucking people. You knew, you knew you shouldn't have pursued his dumb ass. This whole relationship was about to stab you right in the foot, and it wasn't even Oikawa's fault because he didn't create the group of girls who made it their complete business to know his life and bake him milk bread for every game/holiday/moment. Ayane's voice cut through like an arrow through the air. “Absolutely not.” She tapped her pen against the binder. “Those girls are _so_ scary.”

You smiled weakly. “Then who are you guys?”

In a single voice, like you were being welcomed into a team, the other seven girls at the table answered, “We’re the the Oikawa Ex-Girlfriend Club!” 

The… Oikawa Ex-Girlfriend Club… 

“There are seven of you?!” You blurted out, eyes wide with shock.

“Technically,” the Aoba Johsai tennis player you recognized earlier quickly answered. “There are _eight_ of _us_.”

“Do all of you go to Seijoh?” You already regretted asking this question. Of course they did, and you just never noticed them. Four hands went up around the table. The tennis player pointed at you and the others. 

“There are actually three of us from Aoba Johsai.” You made a squeaking noise. Oikawa really _did_ get around more than he let on! You knew it! “I’m Suzuki Kaori, and I play tennis for the girls’ team. I’m in class 3-D.” And she was in the advanced classes?! Kaori fixed her sports headband and nodded to her immediate left. “I’ll let the others introduce themselves.”

“I’m your student council president, Ishikawa Sakura,” came a very bubbly voice. You turned your head and immediately recognized the shoulder-length, wavy black hair as soon as she mimicked the look of her hair in two low pigtails. It amazed you at how different people looked when they dedicated themselves to a certain look Monday through Friday.

“Okazaki Natsumi,” the girl directly across from you at the table bowed. You noticed her long, dark red hair and long, dark eyelashes. “Art Club.” 

Ayane took the reins of the conversation. She motioned to a girl with straight bangs and a bow clipped into her chocolate brown hair. “That is Yamada Seo from Date Tech.” 

An absolute statue of a girl with part of her her short blonde hair pulled into a side ponytail waved enthusiastically. “Chiba Yumiko, Niiyama Girls’ volleyball defense specialist.” 

The last girl at the table blew a bubble from her gum and winked at you. You blushed instantly. She had perfectly pink lips and black cat-eye glasses that blended perfectly into her black bob. “I’m Kimura Rena, the manager for the Johzenji boys’ basketball team.” You noticed that her hair was clipped on both sides with matching yellow barrettes. 

“And you all dated Oikawa-san?” You said in disbelief. 

“And we were all dumped by him.” Ayane said sadly, her pretty eyes downcast. 

“Some of us twice.” Kaori mentioned with a roll of her eyes. Rena laughed before she took a lazy sip of her iced drink. 

“But you’re all so beautiful.” You said quietly before stuffing your mouth with the last of your food to prevent yourself from talking anymore. 

“And you are too!” Rena insisted, reaching across the table and putting her hand over yours. “Ayane-chan originally started this club after she found out that Kaori and I dated Oikawa-chan after she did, and it was a way to repair our friendship.” She looked over at everyone else briefly and smiled. “Now we’ve just adopted the other girls along the way because… it hurts to be heartbroken.” She withdrew her hand and took another quick sip of her drink. “But as far as we know, you’re the only one to break up _with_ Oikawa-chan instead of him dumping you.” There was an intelligent spark in her eyes. “And I, personally, am _very_ interested in how that unfolded.”

You felt weird talking about your very fresh break up. 

Your face must have reflected your discomfort because like a graceful hostess, Ayane interjected, “But I think we need to start by sharing some things about ourselves before we ask you about your relationship with Oikawa-kun. Would you be interested in meeting up with us and talking more?” You wanted to die—was this really a support group for girls who dated Oikawa? You saw Ayane's earnest expression, and, yes, yes, it fucking was. 

And you were completely, one hundred percent into it. 

You nodded slowly, and Ayane beamed. That smile was _everything_ in that moment. You had no idea how much you wanted to impress Ayane. “You are so lovely,” she said easily, and you almost wanted to believe her if you knew that you weren’t up until midnight plucking your eyebrows to death. “So, maybe we can have a volunteer first?” 

“I will go first,” Okazaki Natsumi from the Seijoh Art Club raised her hand a little. She had an almost… untouchable? air about her. But there was something dreamy and lost in her eyes. She ran a hand through her long hair and played idly with the ends. In a quiet, solemn voice, Natsumi explained, “Because I fell in love with Oikawa-san at first sight.”


End file.
